


breathe aloud

by deepnest



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Non-Chronological
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26333614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepnest/pseuds/deepnest
Summary: A collection of short fics for Lacenet Week. Tags will be updated as each one is added. Summaries and warnings included.
Relationships: Hornet/Lace (Hollow Knight)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 74





	1. respite

**Author's Note:**

> After fulfilling her duty and confronting her past, Hornet is left seriously injured, but her journey has left her with someone she trusts to care for her. 
> 
> warnings: injury aftermath, mild emetophobia/mention of sickness, food

Hornet thrashed herself awake, her nest of blankets tangling to trap her. She shoved them down, taking advantage of her own foggy mind, before the pain could sweep through and leave her as it had, shaking, sweat pouring down her shell. One hand found her chest, her claws probed at the bandages there, but they had been well-placed and were still firm around her.

Well enough, then. She tore her hand away from herself and it came down, harder than she'd meant, on the bedside table. She tried again, clawtips scraping this time over the bone surface until they hit glass. Still wet with condensation and cool - although the ice was gone, the water had been replaced recently. She snatched it, still without turning, no movement about her middle save some twinging, and poured it into her mouth.

Her thirst was slaked; some of the foulness of sleep washed away, but the relief was tempered by other complaints, reminders of her wounded state. The effort left her breathless, with water dripping down her chin and onto her chest, dark spots formed on the cloth there. She reached on reflex for her silk, but no - nothing, no soul she could use. Her lifeforce was still devoted to keeping her alive.

The door opened. Her eyes darted to her needle; it rested against the bedside table, within easy reach, but she could barely support her own weight now. And anyhow, she knew where she was and who that must be, and she didn't even have time to run through potential alternative scenarios and responses before Lace was closing the door behind her.

She balanced a tray in one hand, and on the tray was a bowl. "Oh, good, you're awake! Well, I suppose that must be rather bittersweet for you, now."

"More bitter," Hornet said.

"Perhaps I can make it sweeter, then." Lace's swaying steps brought her to the bed, where she nudged the glass back with the tray, and set it down. "I've brought supper. Real food, no less."

Hornet's gut twisted in on itself at the mere thought. She'd subsisted on raw blood and broth since Lace had brought her here, and in truth, she'd been hungry when she had her senses about her. But now, the very idea was nearly as sickening as any substance.

"No." She turned her face away. "Thank you."

Lace narrowed her eyes considerately. "It's not really sweet, I promise. Only a little wordplay, but I suppose poorly timed. My apologies."

"No," Hornet repeated. "If I eat, I shall be sick. I wouldn't want to waste your efforts."

"Oh, my efforts! Silly spider. I assure you, this was quite trifling. And as such, it's as mild as can be."

Lace put a hand on her shoulder. Hornet looked, not at the whole of her, but only at that hand, the fabric of Lace's glove soft on Hornet's chitin. Hornet knew the strength hiding beneath that silk, but now Lace's hand only rested there, curled into place like that was where it belonged.

Hornet said, "I suppose I ought to try."

"Just so. And you don't have to finish it, certainly. I can pack it away nice and neat for you for later, don't worry your pretty horns!"

Hornet merely nodded, her blood blue under her cheeks, and where her fangs met her face. Lace said nothing, but her smile was nearing a grin. She offered Hornet a sturdier cushion from the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Hornet held it to her chest, leaning on it so she could wait without bending too far forward while Lace adjusted the pillows behind her. Once Hornet could lean back with proper support, Lace set the tray in her lap.

"There you are, darling. Enjoy!"

Hornet examined the offering. It was a simple gruel, with tiny, whole salted lilits on sprinkled on top. Hornet stirred them in, and took a spoonful. Then another. The boiled grains themselves were simple, as easy to manage as promised, but the salted bugs added a pleasant crunch and just enough flavor to remain palatable to her. She made a soft, contented noise from the back of her throat, and Lace hummed in reply.

"That is better, isn't it?"

"Yes." Hornet spoon ran over the bottom of the bowl again, and she licked the last few grains from the edge of the utensil. "Thank you."

"Yes, you did say that. Really, it wasn't any trouble."

"Nonetheless. You have my gratitude." Hornet set the spoon in the bowl, and turned the bowl in her hands. She was looking down, not just at the dish, but at her bandages again.

Lace said lightly, "I know. You hardly say things you don't mean. I suppose what I ought to say is, you're quite welcome to it."

"Is that..." Hornet stilled her hands. "Is that what you mean, then?"

"With all my heart, darling."

"I see."

Hornet wished she could think of anything to say beyond that, and perhaps thank you again. Lace seemed untroubled. She took the tray from Hornet's lap, and swept toward the door, but stopped at the threshold.

"Now, it's more rest for you, I think. I'll replace your water later. Would you like anything else?"

"Come here." Hornet answered. It wasn't something that she'd thought to say, it was just what she said.

Lace hummed again, thoughtfully. "Oh? Alright."

Hornet pulled the sheets up. "Though I shouldn't keep you from your chores. But, if you would-"

"I'll stay," Lace answered, and Hornet looked up at her and saw in Lace's eyes a flash of surprised - at what, Hornet couldn't say. Lace's certainty, or intensity, or just how openly she'd expressed it, with no giggling or musicality to bury the point. Lace set the tray down again, and continued, "It's no trouble. Really, for someone as good at trouble as you, you've been so very well-behaved here. Practically mild-mannered."

Hornet snorted. "We'll see if that lasts, then." She sighed, and let herself sink into the pillows again. Softly, she repeated, "But thank you."

This time, Lace only accepted her words with a nod, and set her hand back on Hornet's shoulder.


	2. shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all challenges can be met by skill and the will to live. Hornet knows her limits, and still goes beyond them. Lace offers another choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings: food, issues related to eating (not disorder)/spider body image issues

The clock tolled over the city, the faraway bell of the early morning. The sky was gray with approaching dawn, waiting for the violent wash of color that would set all the gilding in the land alight. 

Hornet sat up in bed. The bell had not woken her. She hadn't slept for hours. And so, she would need to send a message, or - communicate, somehow. She stole from her bedroom into the apartment's small living area, where the couch was crammed in by the kitchen, as if there was anyone else she might wake. 

On the little table in front of the couch was a phone. A clunky device, for all its slender curves and polished black surface. Still, one of Pharloom's modern marvels. She hooked a claw in the dial and spun it, spoke to the operator, waited. 

"Who is this?" Lace lilted, a touch too musical for the early hour.

"Hornet. I'm sorry to disturb you."

"No, no," Lace's tone changed immediately - not softening, exactly, but growing considerate. "Is something the matter?"

"I'm afraid I won't be able to make it today. I'm feeling rather unwell, you see, and I fear I'd be poor company." 

"I see. Well, that's alright." 

"I must apologize if I woke you. I only thought, now you know that you have the morning to rest." 

"I am awake," Lace mused. "Would you like me to come over, anyhow?"

"Why?" Hornet asked frankly. 

Lace said, "I could bring breakfast." 

Hornet's stomach twinged. She hadn't actually considered the kitchen yet, even as she'd walked past it, but now that she was thinking about it - about this, about having to cancel a leisurely trip through a city garden because she knew she was too tired to handle any crowd - she felt utterly pathetic, and not at all like cooking anything. Though she still had rations enough. 

"You need not."

"I know. I asked what you liked, didn't I? I won't come if you won't have me, dear. We'll just meet another time." 

Hornet hadn't anticipated a choice. She'd assumed, since she'd rejected their plans, that she would simply have to wait and see Lace another time, indeed. Now that she did have a choice, it took her a moment to make it. 

At length, she said, "If you are sure that you would like to, then you may come."

"Certainly. I'll be along shortly, darling. Goodbye, for now."

"Goodbye, Lace. I will be waiting." 

*

Still, it was something of a surprise when the knock came on Hornet's door. Her head snapped toward the sound, and her heart pulsed like a warning, readying her limbs for confrontation. 

She had made the right choice. It would have ended terribly, had she tried to go out today. She went to let Lace in. 

"Good morning, ma petite araignée." Lace was adjusting a basket over one arm. 

"Good morning." 

Hornet moved to take the basket, but Lace swung it away. 

"No, darling. You said you weren't feeling well. If you can indulge me the use of your kitchen for just a moment - it's all ready to eat, anyway - you can just relax." Lace looked her up and down openly, and then added, "Try to." 

"Let me put the kettle on, then." 

Lace caught her hand. Hornet stopped, turned, and then Lace's hand was pressed to her cheek, Lace's thumb running fondly under the joint where Hornet's chelicerae met her face. "You didn't sleep at all, did you?" 

"I did." Hornet gave Lace a hard stare. "Three hours last night."

"Hmm. So I'm sure you have tried to relax, then. Very well; tea, if you please." 

Hornet nodded once. Lace patted her face, and then took her hand away. 

Lace set the basket on the countertop, and set about distributing her finds. Under Hornet's direction, she set out plates and a cutting board. A single fruitlet went onto each plate, and she unwrapped a fresh loaf of bread from its wax-paper wrapping to slice it, and then spread the slices with jam. 

Hornet had water boiling already, but she stayed in the kitchen, watching Lace's deft hands work with these plain, sharp tools to feed them. Even here, Lace's skill was unmistakable. The apartment was quiet, save for those sounds of small labor - enough to drown out the swell of Hornet's pulse in her head. 

She placed a hand on the countertop. Lace turned to her just long enough to smile, to set her hand over Hornet's. She pushed one of the finished plates to her, and picked up her own. 

They sat on the couch together to eat. Hornet picked up her fruitlet and nicked the skin with one fang. She pressed it to her mouth to suck out the pulp, and got down one good slurp before she noticed Lace watching, with her chin in one hand and a strange smile on her face - almost dreamy, but that couldn't-

Hornet's hands tightened; a mistake, given the fragile nature of the fruitlet. It popped in her hand. Sticky juice dripped down her wrist, her arm, left splotches on her cloak. 

"Hornet! What's the matter?" Lace was already offering her a napkin. 

Hornet picked up her own, instead. "Ah. I apologize. I've forgotten how such things might be considered unseemly." 

"What?" 

Lace's transparent confusion, the concern in that pearlescent gaze, made Hornet's shell crawl - in part because of a sudden impulse, a desire - she didn't mind that concern. She wanted it. Why else had she invited Lace, when she'd known she was in no state for company? 

Hornet said, "I understand that most other creatures find a spider's eating habits to be. Difficult to witness. A reminder of things they'd rather not think about."

"Really?" Lace asked, now not bothering to hide her fascination. "I think it's adorable." 

"Adorable," Hornet repeated flatly.

"Certainly. And even if that wasn't the case, it would be poor of me indeed to reprimand you for eating how you like in your own home." 

Hornet set her sopping napkin on the plate, and the plate on the coffee table. She pressed, "Adorable how?" 

"How? Oh, I don't know - it's you, isn't it? You're even fierce with your fruit." Lace laughed, although it was a subdued sound. "I think it's sweet. Here." 

Lace took her fruitlet, uneaten, and set it on Hornet's plate. 

Hornet stared at it. Did not touch it, round and red and full of sweet juice though it was. It was there for her. Lace had brought it, Lace had put herself here, too. Lace had come ready with simple gifts, even when Hornet had tried to be as clear as possible that Hornet could offer nothing in return today. 

Hornet let out a long breath, and her proud posture crumpled, shoulders pulling inward, one hand pressed over her face. 

Lace touched the center of her back. The motion bloomed slowly; when Hornet didn't draw away from her fingertips, Lace pressed her palm to Hornet's cloak, and when Hornet was still, save for her silent trembling, Lace started to rub her back in a slight circle. 

At last Hornet leaned in, and Lace wrapped her in both arms, and held her as she came apart there, under the weight of her own exhaustion and the force that was genuine kindness, one so familiar and the other such a shock that it seemed she could not bear both. But Hornet knew Lace must not have judged her weak for it, or she'd have left, taken all her sweet things and gone. 

Instead, Lace was still here, still holding her. 

Hornet gasped, several times in a row, forcing down the air she needed to speak. "Thank you… thank you for coming today. Lace."

"Of course, ma petite araignée. Thank you for having me." 

Hornet laughed a little at the idea that she was owed any gratitude for this. But it hardly mattered, now. Lace didn't mind, at least. Hornet would just have to try to trust that. Hornet buried her face in Lace's shoulder again, and Hornet stayed there until she decided to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this probably won't be true for ALL of them, but you can bet Hornet is going to continue to receive food. she deserves a break dammit


	3. fresh blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A partnership is formalized, from equal parts desperation and admiration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings: moderate and intense violence, blood, poison/venom

Hornet sat back on her knees, with her fists tight in her lap. The seal glowing over the walls of her cell traced over the darkness behind her eyelids. She knew her soul was there inside, too; the spark that kept her heart beating, waiting for her to spin it into a blaze of silver. Still she could no more grasp it than she could walk beyond the cell door.

They'd even been wise enough to take her cloak this time, and her tools with it. She had no choice but to wait. Not, she told herself, for them to come and do whatever they wanted, but for whatever opportunity they might show her to escape. She would be ready. They had her needle, her tools, even her soul - but it wasn't as if they'd pried her claws from her chitin. 

She flexed them now, hearing voices in the hallway outside. They were muffled, which meant that the speakers were shouting, to be heard at all through the thick stone walls.

An urgent plea came down the hall, "Your highness, wait! Please!"

Hornet opened her eyes. 

A high, haughty laugh. "You think to tell me _no_? Dear captain, you must consider the consequences of your words!"

"It's only for your safety. If you were to be hurt-"

They were outside the door now. The second speaker, her voice familiar and as clear and dire as a warning bell, commanded, "Then they'd have your head, yes. They will, or I will; someone will have your head, no matter what. You poor soul. Will you open the door, or must I take the keys from you?" 

Silence, as far as Hornet could tell. Then the knob rattled, and someone heaved open the door. The seal flashed off for just the time it took the visitors to enter. 

There were only two. Some unspoken decree, no doubt, kept the others waiting beyond the door. Hornet could see them, suspicion showing beneath helmet brims, weapons bristling. The guard captain came first, with his pin at the ready. Before either woman could speak, he positioned himself between them and flourished his weapon sternly. "Mind yourself, weaver witch. You're in the presence of Pharloom's noble princess." 

Lace stepped past him with a wave of her hand. "I'll put on my own airs, thank you."

Lace looked down at Hornet. Hornet did not rise, but lifted her chin and met Lace's easy smile. Hornet saw, though, the same frigid determination as her own in Lace's eyes.

Hornet asked, "What do you want?"

Lace pressed a hand over her chest, a gesture of supremely innocent curiosity. "To know how they've been treating you. Such a precious prisoner, surely we ought to be doing more for you."

"Your highness, the weaver has-" 

Hornet fixed him with a glare that choked him as well as if she'd grabbed him by the throat. She said, "It does not matter. I am a prisoner. They could have showered me with the very silks my family bled to make, and I would still be a prisoner."

"Hm. You never were one to complain, anyway, even when you should."

"I have no interest in such frivolity."

"But you must have an interest in something." 

"I want to leave this place."

Lace cupped her cheek in one hand. "I heard you put up quite a fight, before they finally brought you down."

"I assure you..." Hornet stood at last, and declared, "I am far from finished."

Lace's smile turned up on one side, sharpening. She laughed, her delight so visceral that Hornet felt it in her own gut and shivered, a thrill. 

The captain stepped forward, once again trying to assert himself between the two women, and said, "Your highness, I told you, this isn't safe - we don't fully know what she's capable of!"

"Oh, captain," Lace sighed, "You really should worry less about her. I'm quite capable of dealing with threats." 

The captain grunted. A trickle of blue liquid spilled from his mouth. He stared down, to see the gilded point of Lace's pin, coated in a translucent layer of his own blood. A single drop fell to the floor, and then another. 

Lace said, "I did tell you someone would have your head. Ah, well."

Her weapon came free with a wet crackle. She kicked him into the wall of the cell, hard, and he slid down into a misshapen mass of armor and shell. 

Finally, Hornet stood. She approached the captain's corpse, and removed his weapon. She swung it, made an experimental lunge, and huffed. "I suppose it will suffice."

"It will have to, darling, until we can get you your needle back." Lace tsked. "Soon, I hope. You really are dreadful with that." 

Beyond the seal, the soldiers clamored, shouting threats and swearing vengeance in the name of the captain or Lace's royal parents or Pharloom in general. The group was smaller - some had left, either to raise an alarm and report the princess' betrayal, or unable to bear raising arms against her. 

Lace simpled flicked her own pin, and drew the fluttering light from its tip into her palm. "Are you ready, Hornet?" 

Hornet nodded, and slid into the best stance she could manage. Lace opened her palm. 

An elegant flare of white, and the seal was broken. The soldiers rushed the room.

Everything after that was only movement - Hornet knew Lace's silk-shrouded form, gleaming, dancing; and understood where her own body was; and that was all. Everyone else was only their vital parts - shining shell under armor, gaps for her to pierce, to break. Each only took a moment. Some were lashed with silk, some blasted back to the wall as she exercised her birthright, each strike like stretching a stiff muscle at last. 

But some of the earlier guards had plainly gone for reinforcements. There were more, and and more. Hornet's unfamiliar grip on the pin slipped, the weapon clattered to the floor. The guard before her cried out, anticipating victory, and drew back his own blade. He had an angle that would have stuck her neck, and from there, the damage might have been such that she lost her head - an injury well beyond binding.

Hornet struck first. She had to, and she used what she had. Her fangs snapped shut on his arm. Chitin crumpled, a stream of venom flooded her foe's blood. She hissed and threw him back into the last gaggle of other guards, now cowering.

She drew herself up and spread her arms, a posture that would have left her cloak flaring around her, but the blood dripping from her fangs served just as well. 

"Yes, I know. You want to live. So do we all - but trust me when I say that my life is more precious to me than yours. Stand in my way, and you'll find no mercy. Or go. Now." 

The remaining soldiers, few enough by then, scattered beyond the door. 

"Delicious." Lace stepped up to Hornet's side. She clapped her hands, just once. "Let's away, shall we?"

"Do you know where they have my things?"

"Of course. Come along, little spider." 

She darted from the cell, beckoning Hornet after her. Hornet caught up in a few strides, and they tore off down the tower stair.   
  


*  
  


Some ways away from the city, they found a stream and stopped to catch their breath.

Hornet dipped a washrag into the water, and set about washing the blood off. Lace peered over in the midst of her own ministrations, and sighed in an obvious request for attention.

Hornet didn't look at her, but replied, "Alright, what is it?"

"You were quite a sight back there." 

Hornet allowed herself a half-smile. "That sorry lot seemed to think so."

"Fools, the lot of them. They wouldn't know beauty if it bit them - oh, pardon me." Lace giggled.

Now, Hornet glanced at her, sidelong. "Beauty, is that right?" 

Lace mused, "Perhaps it's too bold of me to say."

Hornet wrung out her rag of the water. "You are nothing if not bold, but I might prefer the sort of boldness that leads you to stab captains." She laid the rag over a rock to dry some before storing it, and swung on her cloak. "Thank you. For that, I mean." 

"Of course. It's the least I could do."

"Nonetheless, you did it, and at great risk to your wellbeing. Then, and in the future, as well."

"Oh, yes! I'm a traitor now! Well, I always was - I'm glad to have torn the veil myself. So perhaps I should be thanking you." 

"That is for you to decide," Hornet told her. "But we certainly have other things to discuss."

Lace nodded, and tucked one knee up to her chin, resting on it. She beckoned to Hornet, and Hornet sat down again, cross-legged in front of her. They plotted together, keeping their voices low under the rush of the stream.


	4. duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everything is a battle, but sometimes that's the clearest way for Hornet to define the trouble.

Lace lay still in the dark. Beside her, the mattress shifted - Hornet turning toward Lace and away, trying to keep her restlessness small, contained to her side of the bed as much as possible. Lace broke the barrier herself, slipping an arm around Hornet's shoulder. Her eyes half-lidded, her voice still thick with sleep, Lace asked, "Darling? What's the matter?"

Hornet went still. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

Lace hummed wordlessly. She drew her hand back, traced her fingertips down Hornet's arm, so that she could twine their hands together. Hornet squeezed Lace's hand in return, and Lace heard Hornet sigh, more of a breath she'd failed to control. 

Lace murmured, "It hardly matters, does it? We're awake now." 

Hornet laughed, a sound that barely had more direction than the sigh. "So I did."

"Yes. But if that's up for discussion…" Lace pressed her forehead to Hornet's back and scrubbed it between her shoulders. "What woke you?"

"Was it any one thing? I wonder." 

"Hmmmm. If you don't know, I suppose no one else will." 

Hornet laughed again, with more spirit. "Perhaps it's only that my stubbornness won out over the rest of me."

"Oh, my. Well, if that's the trouble…" Lace reclaimed her hand, and tapped Hornet on the shoulder. "Perhaps I can rig this match in your favor."

"Is that so?" 

"Let me try. Turn and face me, won't you?"

"Alright." Hornet complied, rolling once more to face Lace. Even in the sparse light, her dark eyes shone, but that could not hide the exhaustion in their depths. Not from Lace, who knew what she was looking for. 

Lace set a hand on Hornet's cheek, and ran her thumb over the joint of one chelicerae. "Close your eyes."

Hornet nodded. Lace shifted higher onto her own pillow, and pulled Hornet close, so that her head could rest against Lace's chest. Lace stroked one horn. They lay like that for a moment, settling, easing into each other's presence, until Hornet began to purr and wrapped an arm over Lace's side. 

Lace sang for her. A low lullaby, mellow nonsense lyrics, slow and soothing. Hornet murmured absently, and Lace broke the song only long enough to kiss her horn. Then Lace carried on, on past the victory that was Hornet's breathing grown deep and even, every muscle in her shell relaxing, to be sure that it held. 

Even when Lace fell silent, she kept at her comforting touch, until sleep finally stilled her own hand.


	5. gilded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What catches a lady's eye better than gold?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: blood mention

Lace ran a cloth over her pin. The cloth came away smeared with cool blood, and left her pin gleaming, perfect, ready to be stained yet more. 

She hummed as she worked. 

On the opposite side of the campfire, Hornet stood and stretched. Lace lifted her blade, turning it in the flickering light to check its state. The shine of it caught Hornet's eye, though Lace only knew because Hornet looked down, and the smile hidden by her mask could be heard in her voice. 

"Fine craft, indeed. But not the Forge-Children's work, is it?"

"Indeed not." 

"Hmm."

Hornet sat down again, on the same side of the fire. She set her needle over her lap, and did not comment further. 

Lace glanced at her coyly. "You won't ask who made it, then?"

Hornet looked at her again, and now they were close enough that Lace could see the firelight on her eyes, seeming deeper than they were behind that pale mask. "You may have some secrets. And I know better than to indulge you too much." 

"Wise little spider." 

"I learn quickly, when I wish to." 

"When you wish to." Lace giggled, her eyes on her weapon again. "Am I so interesting to you?" 

"Naturally." 

Lace rested the tip of her pin against her palm, as if to test it, but she was otherwise still. "Truly?"

"Of course. I've faced my share of challenging opponents, but few so… persistent."

"Stubborn, you mean."

"I mean what I said, but I suppose you could also be called stubborn. I know the same could be said of me, however, so I will not hold it against you."

"How charitable of you." Lace sighed daintily. "You ought to be more careful with your interest, you know. Not everyone will return it. Or worse, some might."

"I see. I will consider this advice, Lace, though I'll have you know that I am," Hornet mused, tapping her clawtips on blade of her needle, but she was looking, too, at the weapon Lace held. "Not always so free with my interest, in any case." 

"Is that so? It's always the gleam of gold, isn't it? That catches a lady's eye..." Lace twirled her pin away into its scabbard.

"No. It's you."

Lace jolted, looked straight into Hornet's eyes, saw in them only sincerity. And though it might have cost her all the praise she'd won, Lace looked away first. 

Hornet merely concluded, " I've seen other pins here, but it's how you use it - quite the artist, you are." 

"My." Lace huffed, "It's not your needle that will end me, is it?"


	6. teatime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because death is hardly seemly teatime conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: poison mention
> 
> yes, this is (loosely) inspired by Revolutionary Girl Utena. oops. well, it's free day!!!

Hornet folded her arms over her chest, and frowned deeply at tea pouring into her cup. It settled, amber, clear, a promise just slightly too bitter for her to bear, and already Lace had the little pitcher of milk tipped over it.

Hornet said, "Only just-"

But Lace put it down again quickly, with only two beats worth of milk to stir in. She slid the saucer over to Hornet with a smile.

"You remembered," Hornet observed. 

"Did you expect me to forget?"

"Yes." 

Lace finished preparing her own tea, two beats more of milk than Hornet's got. "Give me a little credit, dear."

"You are nothing if not attentive," Hornet agreed gravely.

"A detail can be all the difference between life and death."

"Quite so." 

Hornet took a long drink of her tea. 

Lace took a sip her own. 

Lace suggested, "You know, darling, many would have hesitated after that."

"Why, because death is hardly seemly teatime conversation?" Hornet drank again, such that she couldn't have had much left in the dainty cup. "Or because you just made it sound like there was poison involved?"

Lace smiled serenely. "It would be one of the milder accusations I've faced." 

Hornet scoffed, "If I thought that of you, Lace, I wouldn't be here."

"Of course. I should give you more credit, too." Lace's cup  _ plinked _ on the saucer. "I'm sorry. I suppose it's an old habit, but that's hardly an excuse… And after all that about praise for attentiveness, I let my words slip so easily."

Hornet closed her eyes, nodded, and drained what remained of her tea. "It happens to the best of us. I trust, too, that you'll be more mindful." 

"Quite." Lace teased the handle of her cup, as if she might pick it up and drink from it the words she needed now. But she had to make that choice for herself. "Thank you, Hornet." 

"I think I might forgive you," Hornet said, and pushed her cup across the table. "As long as there is more tea." 

"For you, darling? Always, if I have anything to say about it. Oh, even if I must simply go all the way to the kitchen for more!"

But their pot was still full, so Lace poured more tea for Hornet, and added the milk, just so.


	7. vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they reach the height of their journey, Lace offers something Hornet she's never had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings: blood, discussion of violence, self-sacrificial tendencies

Hornet swept her needle down. A slight spray of blood followed in its wake, splashing onto the gilded floor. 

Nearly there. Soon, she would face what waited for her - the fate that she would defy, or which would bind her. 

She looked up. Not in an abstract sense, toward her hidden goal, but to acknowledge the bright figure waving from a high windowsill, silhouetted against the stained glass. Hornet cast her needle into the sill, and leaped to join Lace. 

Lace laughed. "Quite a crowd, isn't it? And so devoted, following our footsteps."

"Let them come," Hornet replied. "They yet hunt me, and have not learned that their prey has claws? It's their folly." 

"And you will let nothing stop you," Lace said, eagerly, even keenly, with the sharp edge of her heart undisguised and her admiration just as plain. 

Hornet nodded, turned, tensed to spring again. 

Lace said, with alarming softness, "Not even a little sense?" 

Hornet whirled around, but Lace spoke quickly, "This is your last chance. They won't forget what you've wrought, you could call it vengeance. We could-" 

"Enough. I am not here for vengeance, and you know that or you would never have come. My duty lies ahead. No matter what that means." She drew in a deliberate breath, and offered more calmly, "At least this is worth my-"

"No."

"It is not your decision."

"I can't stop you. I know. I didn't expect you to say yes, but I suppose I have my own reputation for stubbornness to uphold." She sighed, dainty, dramatic, an ornament not unlike the gilding around them. "But no, it is not worth your life. I think nothing could be." 

Hornet snapped, "Neither you nor I chose that worth, nor can anyone change it."

Lace suggested, "It's yours to do what you will with, after all."

"You really-" Hornet's claws curled over the eye of her needle. "Make your point, Lace." 

Lace made a sweeping gesture, ending with her empty palm up as she laid out her thoughts. "There is no way to stop you without killing you. But nonetheless, Hornet… I remain the only one who is allowed to kill you."

Hornet snorted. "I know."

Lace drew her hands back together, a ballet mime of pleading with her pin fixed at the heart of it."So let me watch over you. Let me make sure that that holds true." 

"Lace, this is my-"

"I'll protect you, Hornet. I have no interest in killing you anymore, so no one will. I swear it on my own life."

Hornet's mouth opened slightly, silently. And then she unfroze herself, forced herself to look Lace over again. Hornet said, "You… have proven your merits."

Lace beamed. "Why, thank you."

"My protector, then," Hornet murmured, slowly, as if it wasn't something she knew quite how to pronounce. "Very well. Enough stalling." 

Lace nodded. They jumped for the top of a pillar together, one shared movement bringing them closer to the Citadel's heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made it!!! hope y'all had fun \o

**Author's Note:**

> the title for this one is pretty plain on its own but the lyric is from  
> [Not Running by The Beths](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKhCeP_tm2Q)


End file.
